Monday, September 21, 2009

This morning when I went out to my car, I saw an ominous-looking piece of paper under my windshield wiper. Ticket? Did I let my inspection expire? Nope, not pink. As I approached the car I saw handwriting on the note. Oh no. Someone hit my car. Well at least they left a note, but dammit I've spent more time in the shop than out of it this year.

My fears were unfounded. The note was from a secret admirer, proof that romance is not dead in the world. A handwritten note, a compliment, "I just liked your look." It could be the beginning of nothing, just another conversation at a bar, a missed connection, or, if acted upon, it could be the story of how we met, told to our grown children 25 years from now.

Unfortunately, I have to burst that bubble. It wasn't for me.

I loaned my car to a friend last night.

Now that we've gotten the sappery out of the way, it's time to mock this thing mercilessly. Mouhahhahahhaaa!!

Romance is not dead yet, is what I meant to say. So let's see how long it takes to kill it!

"I liked your look?" The friend in question was wearing a ratty Superman T-shirt. Except it was a black T-shirt, not a blue one, so I guess it was bizarro superman. Over that was a zip-up hoodie of some kind, and below were, I believe, sweat pants. All ill-fitting because they belonged to her boyfriend. She hadn't been home since Saturday to change into her own clothes, because she had lost her purse (and keys) while wasted on Saturday night.

Which brings us to why she was borrowing my car --- by some miracle, the Palace of Wonders actually had her stuff and she needed to go get it.

Anyway, it was a priceless look. I would imagine if she'd actually taken a shower or put on something that did not look like it came from the hipster section of the Value Thrift, that our erstwhile romantic wouldn't have even noticed her! Seriously - you may want to consider the "hung over walk of shame" look more often, apparently it turns a lot of heads.

There are a lot of things that come to mind as I ponder this note.

1. Notes like this are supposed to start with "I've never done something like this before." It's not that I seriously think you haven't but at least you could pretend.

2. On the subject of leaving notes on the cars of people you've never met. How does this compare to meeting people at the bus stop, grocery store line, or STD clinic waiting room for getting dates?

3. "Shallow to say..." interesting expression, but yes....

4. Can you clarify exactly what that word is at the end of the fourth line, that looks kind of like "I was talking with an / nazi..." I really can't figure out what this says, but will give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you are not friends with any nazis. But it could hold the key to the important question: Do You Live On My Block, Or Were You Visiting? Which brings us to...

5. If the answer is "Live On My Block," then how could you possibly not have realized that my car also lives on my block? It's there every single day. While picking up strangers by leaving notes on their car is weird to begin with, it's even weirder if they happen to live across the street from you or something. I'd think that you'd make a lot more headway with the "hi, I'm your neighbor" introduction than random stalker note.

Okay, now that I've ripped the heart out of a complete stranger who will probably read this, fly into the kind of alcohol-induce rage that only a true romantic callously scorned could have, leave another note telling me what an a-hole I am, then later sober up some and regret it, come back and remove the note and possibly key my car, I'd like to close with this.

I gave her the note. Good luck. By the way -- she's totally psychotic.

16 comments:

That was suggested to me after I posted this. Two votes for Iraqi? The Iraqis have it.

That still leaves me pretty puzzled, though. Why would that author mention he was with his Iraqi friend? Does having an Iraqi friend make you cool and international? Or possibly in the military, the FBI, or a terrorist?

Would any of these make someone who's never even laid eyes on you more likely to call you back?

I figured, but since I had a lot of fun at your expense I figured I should be just a little bit apologetic. I see that was unnecessary.

Still no contact from Romeo. But if it's a choice between giving up your identity, and threats against my car I might have to think about that... uh... I mean, OF COURSE I WOULD NEVER GIVE YOU UP!! If a strange man, possibly with a middle eastern or german accent, starts emailing or calling you I SWEAR it has nothing to do with me.

As for the note, well, I got one just like it in college on my bike. Similar thing: "Hey, saw you riding across campus, thought you looked nice, yada, yada, yada. Here's my number if you want to give a call."

Yeah, romance is dead. It was her roommates playing a trick on her. Still, I asked her out anyway just on general principles.

Oh, and first impression? Stalk much maybe? I say park on a different block for a week. Yanno, just to be safe.

Since I am about to sound TOTALLY ridiculous, i will stay annonomous... I think it's actually really romantic. I mean, in this specific case it is pretty creepy... but, men don't really ever try to be romantic, so I don't think we should knock it. I say, good for him for putting himself out there, and I wish men would pursue girls more!

Yes, there are still a large segment of men that get turned on by hot women regardless of whether they have slapped ten pounds of makeup on and tugged, tightened, and cinched their bodies into caricatures. A wet mismatched hoody is not a barrier to infatuation, only shallow lust.

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Farm Fresh Meat

This began as a place to keep things that I didn't want to forget. I called it the "external brain drive," but I've since moved on to Farm Fresh Meat. Which doesn't mean anything in particular, as far as the blog is concerned, I just like the domain. This is a bit into a memoir of my thoughts and experiences about life in Washington, DC. I expect I'll look back on this in five years and wonder what the hell I was talking about.